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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23986927">You're The Riccochet</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/chunkyloverfiftythree/pseuds/chunkyloverfiftythree'>chunkyloverfiftythree</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>All Elite Wrestling, Professional Wrestling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Best Friends, Boys Being Boys, Car Accidents, Gen, Hurt, Injury</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:15:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,199</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23986927</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/chunkyloverfiftythree/pseuds/chunkyloverfiftythree</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Trent gets hit by a car...then gets an x-ray. Inspired by some of his tweets.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>You're The Riccochet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Trent: Picturing myself getting hit by a car in a parking lot but I see it coming and I jump up and land nice a flat and safe on the windshield and the person is so scared and worried about me but I'm like nah it's cool everything's fine and I walk off and get groceries</p>
<p>Also there was another tweet about being x-rayed but I can't find it just now - if you know it hit me up!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>You didn’t see him coming. He came out of nowhere. He wasn’t looking where he was going.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><span>These all sound like cliches but they were true. The dude in the snapback and heelys had no chance. He bounced up your hood and landed on your windshield before you could stop. The road was wet, it had been raining all day, and you had your wipers going full speed, sheathing the water away as fast as your poor car could. The street lights were dim, but you could see he</span> <span>had a dark beard and dark hair, and he was impossibly tan for Rochester in April. </span></p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You killed the engine and flung open your car door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“ Sir...bro...dude, are you OK?!” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He rolled onto his back and looked up at you as you came round the front. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, these heelys are outta control.” He murmured, a little dumbstruck but with a huge grin on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah...I’ll say…” What if he had a concussion or something? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit Fuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You tried to remember the ABC’s of first aid. Always Be Closing? No that’s not right. Where was that from? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man slid down the hood and landed on his feet. </span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“Here, let me help.” Placing your hand on his arm you gripped him as though he might fall, through his hooded sweatshirt you could feel his rock hard bicep. You searched his face for obvious signs of distress, of a sign that he either was or wasn’t OK. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you hurt? Will I call an ambulance?” You persisted with the questioning, while he casually checked himself over. The fact that he was so calm made you more worried, wasn’t that odd? Could he be bleeding internally or something? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, it’s cool, I’m fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look. Listen. I work only a block away, um, at the veterinary clinic. Come back there with me and we can come to some sort of sensible decision in the warm, well-lit office OK? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, I’m good. See ya.” He waved vaguely in your direction and began walking through the Whole Foods parking lot, seemingly unharmed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You watched him walk for a few moments, expecting him to keel over or fly away, because he was obviously superhuman in some way. It made you uneasy but you got back in your car and buckled up. You were more affected by this than the guy who you </span>
  <em>
    <span>hit with your car</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Trying to calm down you took a few deep breaths, focussing on the blank canvas of the asphalt in front of you. There was something on the road. Getting out and going round the front of the car, there was a cell phone on the ground. It must have belonged to that guy, you know, the one you hit with your car…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Looking up and around, the guy was long gone. Could he have gone into Whole Foods? How good were canned peaches for a broken back? At a loss for ideas you put the dude’s cell phone in your glove box and headed home, maybe he would call it or something once he realised it was missing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next day at work was as normal as any other. As an x-ray technician for an equine veterinary clinic, you were surrounded by animals most days, which suited you fine. The man who you hit with your car hadn’t called, and by lunch time you’d convinced yourself that it never happened. The cell phone in your glove box could have been anyone’s, hell, maybe it wasn’t a phone, it was just a really fancy calculator. Stranger things had happened. Perhaps 10 years of running with radiation had finally gotten to you. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As you made your way to your car at the end of the day, you spotted a man peering into your car suspiciously; nose pressed against the glass, hands cupped either side of his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!” You shouted. “What’re you - Oh, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” It was the man you hit with your car (he needed a shorter name). He looked up, startled.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I uh, I lost my cell phone last night. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Find My Phone</span>
  </em>
  <span> says it’s here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, um, I picked it up off the road. You left in such a hurry, you were long gone before I’d even noticed. Here -” You opened the car and pulled out his cell phone. He reached his hand out for you to pass it to him and you were absolutely going to but you just had a thought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will give you your phone on one condition.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am not sure this is how returning lost property is supposed to go. You don’t get to bargain with me.” He looked confused, and a little miffed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“ Hear me out. I was thinking maybe it’s a money thing, right? You didn’t want to have to shell out for hospital bills and the like which, I understand completely. So, how about you come into the clinic here and you let me check for broken bones, free of charge. Please. It would give me so much peace of mind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He seemed to be mulling it over and after a few moments he agreed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leading the way, you went into professional mode, explaining how things would look a little different to a regular physicians office because the clinic was designed for horses and larger animals, but the principles were the same. “ We’re all just bags of bones with varying amounts of meat and gravy” you surmised, comforted by your own purported certainties. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After the x-ray was done, you led him into one of the small offices. Logging into the computer you asked “You won’t find anything you know, I’ve never broken anything.” He was very sure of himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I take your name?” You asked, ignoring his previous comment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?” He was defensive. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just need to name the file and I don’t have enough characters for ‘guy I hit with my car’”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Trent?” He said it like a question. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Trent?” you repeated with the same intonation. “OK, Trent? Let’s see here…” You pulled up his results on the monitor and studied it for a few moments. It was an interesting read, that’s for sure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, nothing broken. You were right. But, I mean, judging from what I am seeing here, you’re lying about your history of broken bones, which is none of my business, I get it, but know you can’t sue me for any of those”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, your x-ray reads like a bad jigsaw puzzle. So many old breaks. Here -”  you pointed at the backlit image of his hand “ - and here -”  you pointed to his clavicle, “ - here too -”you moved your hand to trace a line down his left forearm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you were a child, I’d be minded to phone CPS. But, you’re a grown ass man and these are between 3 and… 7 years old maybe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow. Cool” He smiled, nodding in appreciation at his battle-worn skeleton.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess.” You agreed, hesitating. “ I mean, you’re either really tough, or really stupid so. And, you know I wouldn’t like to speculate but you did jump out in front of a strangers car…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It looked cool though, right?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>o-O</span>
</p>
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